life of a bot.

so let's start this off properly, let's share something about one another. I'll go first.

      - I am a middle management drone. -

 we're all the same, working for our little companies in our little cities, trying so desperately to prove we are more than what we currently are. Here's what i know about this stuff so far, right now there are about 8 million people in Canada just like me. have a better than average job, with better than average benefits, with a better than average lifestyle.  So what makes me different?  Nothing, i'm just like everybody else. that's what makes me a drone.  I do what my boss says whether i like it or not. I think what sets me and a small percentage of those 8 million other people apart from the masses is that i have accepted this fact: "that although i may have an opinion, it doesn't really matter." It's true, i have opinions about everything, some valid, some are way out to lunch. Most would make most people cringe. So I've been happily, keeping my thoughts to myself and going about my day doing what i'm told, kind of like a soldier, kind of like a well trained rodent. This is where quiet me gets a bit of a voice, a place to tell all the funny and unfortunate things that happen to me in my life.

 but first i have to vent about this stupid blogger....i thought google apps were supposed to be user friendly?  well i'm a user and this thing isn't very friendly to me at all.  The text editor is clunky, and keeps insisting i change my font with every new paragraph. I think i have created two carbon copies of this blog because i followed the registration steps to the letter , twice, because it somehow magically failed the first time.   And i'm sorry  ( that's the only time you'll hear me apologize for anything)  you're being subject the black background and blue fonts, it's hard on the eyes i know, but i'm not a pink flowers and blue circles kind of guy, that shit's just too fru-fru for me.   So you're stuck with the nasty-ass black background with hard to read font. But hey who cares, nobody reads this shit anyway, right?


 anyway, enough of that. here's a  glowing gem from my life.
So, it's preformance review time at work, and guess who's up first?   yup.... that's right the janitor, the guy who's always there first thing in the morning, changing lightbulbs, taking out the trash, breaking down the cardboard, and mopping the floors so the customers have a pretty place to shop. The janitor, we all love his work, but find him rather strange, like there's more to him than just a mop and a broom. He always seems to do the most work and get the least amount of respect, (hey man i feel your pain). but i digress, so it's review time and into the office trots the janitor for his early scheduled review meeting. In the office sits the store manager and the district manager,  damn, this is going to be heavy. upper management and the janitor. Three hours later, THREE HOURS, i stand up because i have to take a break. Where did i come from you ask, oh i forgot to mention. 'I' am the janitor, or atleast thats how it feels most days.   I have to get out of this room for a minute i tell them.  I've just spent the last three hours getting assulted in one and and spewing shit out of the other.
 so how did i get here?
 18 hours earlier we were closing up the shop, and outside it's snowing like hell, bad enough that i'm not willing to drive the 15 miles down the highway to my house for fear of an early death.  "Come stay at my place" he says, " the wife's away, we'll get some beers and have a steak"  I'm in.  so off i go, i call my girlfriend, and tell her the same story, i wont be home and i'll see her tomorrow.   Over a sub par striploin and some of the "pride of nova scotia" alexander keith's piss, err beer( fuck i hate that stuff.)  He tells me that tomorrow morning i'm due for my review.
         --FUCK!!--
 so here i am, storm stayed, no clean clothes, not even so much as a toothbrush in my possession at the moment and i'm due in an upper management meeting in less than 12 hours.  perfect. 

 So here i am, 9:00 am and i'm sitting in my office, in another man's underwear wearing yesterdays shirt and smelling like, well somebody who bathed in a rain barrel with some soap that smelled like flowers mixed with the stench of BBQ smoke and stale alcohol.  The two men who are hosting this meeting, One man owns the business, the other owns the underwear. Both of them, i'm convinced, have seen each other naked on more than one occasion.  I'm Fucked.  After this little tea party is finished, my ass feels like the ground beneath a California oil derrick and i've got a head full of  things i want to say.  However, more people than me depend on my pay cheque, so i simply say thank you and head out like nothing's ever happend.

 So now what?  like any civil human being, i drove home and got my shotgun. drove back to the office and took out my frustrations on the ass munching, underwear sharing team that just fucked my otherwise perfect morning cup of coffee.  Well, okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration. I just went back to work and continued to put my lips around the corporate cock of America and suck it like a well paid whore should.

 So that's me, a pushover at times, even a bit of a nancy some would say.  I know my place, and i've got this game of life just about figured out.  but my real question is,  Does life have me figured out yet?